Chapter Text
Gibbs knew something was out of sorts with his second in command. The man came to work many mornings recently with dark crescents blooming under his eyes, a frantic, bone-weary exhaustion continuously plaguing his countenance. While he typically tried not to pry, the older man privately admitted to himself that he would need to interfere, and soon- if he didn’t want Tony to eventually burn out and get himself hurt while in the field.
The sound of the elevator dinging rang throughout the bullpen, followed by hurried footsteps and an exclamation of “Sorry Boss, I’m here!”.
Gibbs rose his head from his third cup of coffee (“sludge”, as the team would call it) and watched attentively as Tony walked into the bullpen, late. Again. He felt a slight twinge of irritation inside of him, but refrained from saying anything once he was able to study his SFA more closely. DiNozzo was pale, and the stress lines on his face only seemed to be deepened this Monday morning at 0900. The man was absentmindedly sipping from a cup of coffee as he waited for his computer to boot up.
Ziva cleared her throat purposefully and questioned snidely, “So, Tony? What’s the excuse? Your date last night ran too long with the girl of the week? Or are you too hungover after a night at the bar?” Tim snorted in the background while being immersed in his computer monitor.
Tony’s laughter was sharp and a wide smile filled his face as he responded, “Hah. Good one Zee-vah, how did you guess? Last night Megan and I had a little too much to drink and you know I had to be a gentleman and make sure she got home alright.” He waggled his eyebrows and continued, “It isn’t my fault that tucking her into bed took a few more hours than originally allotted!”.
Her face scrunched up and she turned back to her paperwork. “Truly, I do not see what women like about you”, she mumbled harshly.
Tony shrugged and went back to quietly sipping at his coffee, the lack of a witty response somewhat odd to his team members, but they simply wrote it off as him being his usual foolish self. Sounds of keyboards typing, agents conversing, and printers whirring filled the room with outlandish orange walls.
Unbeknownst to the others, Tony’s silence was due to the lack of desire to continue with the lies. Those that he painstakingly planned and rehearsed frequently just to fill that “frat boy womanizer” mask he had built over the years to hide his true self from the agency. As the years went by, it was getting harder and harder to match the demands of his fake persona for NCIS. However, he knew that this was good for the team, their “family”, as they often referred to themselves. He couldn’t risk his cover being blown and all the efforts of classifying his documents go to waste.
Gibbs’ phone rang, “Yeah. Got it. We’re on it. Bye.” He strode out towards the elevator, barking, “We’ve got a body in Fairfax. Gear up.”
He tossed the van keys to Tim, who scrambled to catch them as he stumbled after Gibbs in a hurry. Ziva quickly followed, complaining about how she wanted to drive the van, while Tony brought up the rear and teased McGee about his driving habits that resembled those of a grandma.